


What if this storm ends?

by LittleMockingbird



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4108636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMockingbird/pseuds/LittleMockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope has two daughters, anger and courage. Anger at the way things are and the courage to change it. But when one of them is dying while the other is burning bright, what is to be done?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Petyr sighs as he rubs his tired eyes. Dark shadows dance across the halls of his chamber from the roaring fire as the soft sounds of the girls who work to earn him money echo through the establishment. He blocks them out normally but today he can't help but feel helpless. He has just received a letter from Sansa describing, in more detail than he wants to know, how she is coping with that bastard Ramsay. He hates that he left her in his clutches and that he told Cersei about her but he couldn't kill Sansa. He wouldn't want anyone to harm her which is why he is smuggling her out of Winterfell as soon as he can. Brienne of Tarth is sworn to Cat and is hiding out just outside of the castle with Podrick so all he needs to do is send her a letter telling her to get Sansa away from Ramsay. All he wants to do now is to succumb to sleep and hope that, at some point in the near future, Sansa will be here to help him. He grabs his quill and starts to write a reply when there is a knock on the door, making him jump slightly before hiding the letters with a book.

"Who is it?" He calls, his voice stronger than he expected it would be.

"The Queen Regent, Lord Baelish." Olyvar calls back, making Lord Baelish sigh before composing himself. Olyvar should be working right now so he better just be off duty because Cersei is here.

"Come in." He calls as the door opens. Cersei walks in with a dominance he has always took in his stride but it's Cersei so, as usual, she looks pretty as well. Petyr rises from his more than comfortable seat and walks around to greet her. "Your grace..." He purrs, his hand taking hers so he can kiss it. "You are the last person I expected to see in my chamber at such a late hour but I'm not going to complain." He adds with a flirtatious tone and he sees a small smile appear as Cersei registers the compliment.

"Lord Baelish." She replies before looking at him, sternly, returning to her normal self. "I wanted to inform you that we have Arya Stark. She had fled to Braavos but we found her." She says, making Petyr feel like someone has punched him in the stomach. Arya was always fighting danger and getting herself into more danger, but she is Sansa's sister.

"Very good, your grace. What exactly did she do?" Lord Baelish asks, his clever mind coming back into play rather than he sleepy one.

"She is the daughter of a traitor an-"

"Is that her fault, your grace? For you cannot decide whom your parents are." He reminds her and she gives him that ignorant look she has mastered so well.

"She is Arya Stark and her brother, mother and father are traitors to the crown." She declares as if it is final but Petyr being Petyr he doesn't keep his mouth shut.

"That was because of what Joffrey did to Ned." He replies before getting a sharp smack from Cersei, his face stinging but he refuses to move an inch or show anything other than spite. "

"Do NOT speak of Joffrey disrespectfully!" She hisses and he nods slowly before bowing slightly.

"I did not mean to speak disrespectfully of him, your grace." He apologises before straightening to his full height.

"Pick what side you are on Baelish!" She hisses before walking towards the door. "Winter is coming and you seem to be forgetting who is paying you." She adds and he smiles the smile that doesn't quite meet his greeny-grey eyes.

"I live to serve, your grace." He says with a slight bow before she leaves, making him sigh yet again before removing the book from on top of the letter. He runs his fingers over the fine handwriting before looking down at the letter he has just started. "Oh, Sansa..." He sighs before grabbing the quill.

 

My dearest Sansa,   
I wish dearly to come and get you from Winterfell but, with Stannis passing through shortly, it will be returned to you if you are there to take it. You survive this invasion on your home. All you need to do is offer the services of Winterfell to Stannis and he will return your kindness if he gets onto the throne.

Sansa, if you need any protection remember to light the candle you told me about. Ramsay may know about it but it doesn't mean he can stop you lighting it. I know that this is my fault and that you probably detest me but please know that I will try and get you away from him as quickly as I can. Brienne swore an oath to your mother and she will keep it. You are still Sansa Stark. You're name is too important to change and I discussed that with Roose at length. He agrees so you are no more a Bolton than you were at birth. If you fall pregnant a maester I hired to take care of you will give you moon tea without the knowledge of the Boltons.

When I come further north, I may even take you on a short venture to the Eyrie to see how Lord Arryn is coming along. I hope you know that I am not giving up on you. I will try and see you as soon as I can but with the way things are in King's Landing I can't leave right now. I wish that I hadn’t married you to Ramsay. I had no clue of how dangerous he is, obviously something that has been kept under wraps if my spies did not know. It was the best way for you to get Winterfell back but I hate to think of you going through any pain. I asked this of you when I left for King’s Landing and I will ask of it again: be strong for me while I’m gone. 

Try to be safe, Sansa.  
Yours entirely,  
Petyr.

 

He yawns before rolling up the sheet of paper, sealing it with wax and putting it in a locked draw for him to get it to a raven tomorrow. It would mean going outside if he were to send it now and he needs to go to sleep. So, he removes his clothes and climbs into his bed, the warmth from the fire holding back the cold bite of the air. Winter is coming and nothing is going to prevent it.


	2. Curiosity...

Sansa lies on her bed, waking with the familiar feeling of stained tears against her cheeks. There is a soft, white glow emanating from her window, signifying another day of helplessness without Lord Baelish with her. She misses him, much to her surprise. She genuinely misses him and has grown fond of his kiss. She remembers the kiss they shared at the Eyrie once they had made Winterfell from snow and sticks. He had always known exactly how to do everything and his fingers were so sure. When he kissed her she had not wanted it. She had not wanted it at all yet she felt a pull towards him and when she squirmed she found herself closer to him instead of further away. She still remembers the feeling of her body being so close to his, the taste of mint as he captured her lips. Even though she knew it was wrong, on some level, she didn't want it to stop. She does not know if she is exaggerating the situation because of how much she hates Ramsay but she knows that she wants him here. He might be able to stop Ramsay or might be able to help her get him away from her anyway. She dresses into a nice gown before grabbing her furs to keep her warm, making her look more like a Stark than anything else could as she got the Tully looks. Suddenly, there is a soft knock on the door.

"Yes?" She calls and the door opens slowly, Theon, or should she say 'Reek', is standing in the doorway holding a scroll.

"M-my lady." He says before walking over to her and handing her the scroll. "Th-this was delivered just now." He stutters, his head down and his eyes darting as if the shadows are plotting against him.

"Does Ramsay know?" She asks, looking at the Mockingbird seal of house Baelish.

"M-Master doesn't know." He continues and Sansa sighs before laying her scroll on the side and lifting Theon's head up.

"You are Theon of he house Greyjoy. Last surviving son of Baylon Greyjoy and Ramsay is not your master!" She says and he just shakes his head slowly, backing away.

"No. I-I am Reek."

"No! You are Theon Greyjoy! Do you understand?" She shouts, her hands resting on his shoulders as not to frighten him. He looks back down at the floor so Sansa, surprising herself, pulls him into a hug. He tries to push away but she pulls him closer and that's when he returns it. It reminds her of when she used to hug Robb but Robb. Theon is still extremely strong but his mind has weakened. She pulls away from him before giving him a small smile. "Theon." She insists and he gives her a small smile back before leaving. She grabs the scroll from the side, opening it as she sits down on the bed. The familiar handwriting starts to blur as she reads, tears dropping and smudging some of the letters. She reads the bottom line and smiles a little. 'Yours Entirely', if only that were true she would not be in this predicament. She kisses the paper softly, taking in the smell of incense that must have clung to the paper, meaning he has written this when he was in the brothel. She puts the note in one of the pockets of her dress and walks down to the main hall, still holding onto the paper.

 

Petyr stands in the Red Keep, just having made his way through the streets, trying to avoid the fanatics that insist on making themselves look ridiculous yet extremely detestable. He is meant to be in a meeting but because Loris and Margaery are imprisoned they have decided to leave the King be for the time being. Petyr’s hand slides into his pocket before his fingers run across Sansa’s letter, making him feel stronger. He glides through the corridors of the Red Keep, wondering why there is not a single guard in the corridors if there are fanatics that seem to be going after important people. He ignores it before starting to hear faint voices, Tommen’s he can hear but it takes a second before he realises the other voice. He rushes down the hall, finding somewhere he can listen without disturbance. A small cupboard is adjacent to the room so, after rather adeptly pick-locking the door, he lets himself in and finds a metal grate to help circulate the air. Petyr grabs a chair before stepping onto the sturdy wood to see into the room, and as he predicted there sit Arya and Tommen.

“My lady, you need to understand that you are going to have a trial and then most likely get executed.” Tommen tries, his hands moving with his words.

“I do understand it. I just do not know why I will get killed. What have I done?” Arya asks, making Tommen lean back in defeat and sigh.

“Nothing. You genuinely have done nothing at all but my mother believes that your sister plotted to kill Joff’ with my uncle, your mother, father and brother are traitors to the crown and that you, therefore, are a part of that.” He explains. Arya growls at him before rising.

“Where is your mother?” She asks, her intentions blatant.

“She is not here.” He states before rising and joining Arya. “Please, I will try my best to get you out of execution but only as long as you do not kill my mother.” He pleads with a sense of authority. Arya turns to him and gives him a sly smile.

“I cannot promise you that.” She hisses before going to walk out of the door but Tommen grabs her hand. “Get off!” She yells but Tommen shakes his head, bowing it slightly.

“Please don’t leave.” He pleads, this time with a tone the king should never be heard using. “I like talking to you… I like looking at you…” He adds, taking a step closer to her, closing the distance.

“Wh-” She is interrupted when Tommen leans in and kisses her, she tries to move but after a couple of seconds her arms slide around his neck. Petyr steps of the chair immediately, his mind racing. He walks out of the room, out of the Red Keep and into his brothel.


	3. Hope...

Petyr walks through King's Landing before walking towards the Red Keep. He has decided that he will not wander through the castle this time, not particularly wanting to see Tommen and Arya sticking their tongues down each other's throats. He walks straight into the chamber before moving over to Cersei.

"I have to head north, my lady." He whispers into her ear as the others mindlessly chatter on. "I have business to attend to at the Eyrie. I will be back as soon as I can, your grace." He adds and Cersei nods.

"Farewell, Lord Baelish. I wish to see you sooner rather than later." She replies, hardly. He nods back before leaving. He knows that Varys will have his spies all over the place so he has to tread carefully. He practically owns everyone on the harbour, from the Red Keep to his brothel and beyond. The Eyrie is his until Robyn comes of age and nearly everyone north of there will not have a conversation with anyone who is still in the south. His stuff is already on his ship so all he needs to do is make his way to the harbour and he will arrive with Sansa shortly. He, of course, sent her and Brienne letters; the one to Sansa stated that he was coming to get her and the one to Brienne stating that she has to be ready to help him. The travel will be long without her but when she is with him on their way back, he will enjoy the longevity. 

Dark skies surround Winterfell, the moon and stars illuminating the black sheet above Sansa. She is sat in her room, staring from the window and wishing her escape when Theon enters. He approaches her with a letter that looks similar to the other one he gave. Sansa takes the letter. It's from Petyr. She doesn't even have to look at the wax to tell. She nods at him with a smile, letting him take his leave before opening the letter. That familiar swirled writing with the perfect amount of ink, the way he writes her name. All of these give her hope that he will help her and when she starts to read it becomes more apparent that he will. He is coming up to Winterfell in his ship and Brienne, who Sansa can only guess is the blonde lady whom swore she would protect her, will come and help her escape. The idea of seeing Petyr again makes her happier than she can say. Petyr heard that Stannis has lost half of his army so there is no chance that he will defeat the Boltons. However, because they are still a three day walk from Winterfell, that meant Sansa could sneak out of the castle while they were either fighting or while they were getting ready for the fight. She may be the rightful Wardeness of the north and the heir to Winterfell, but when the Boltons are fighting, she might as well be invisible. She sighs before imagining what the next two nights will be like and if she will face something worse than rape. Sansa doesn't even know if she likes him or if he likes her. Feelings have never been something Sansa understands since Joffrey.

"My lady." Mylle says as she enters. She is one of the only people who understands her; Lord Baelish was the one who made her Sansa's handmaid. He knew that she would be safe in the hands of someone who wouldn't hurt her.

"Mylle, Lord Baelish is coming to get me." She exclaims and Mylle smiles broadly.

"My lady, not to seem too familiar, but do you like Lord Baelish?" She asks, putting the tray down on the besdie table before joining Sansa on the bed.

"Of course I do. He is a good man." Sansa replies before turning her head slowly. "You mean the kind of like that can turn to love?" She questions and Mylle nods, making Sansa sigh.

"I don't think so." Sansa hesitates and Mycelle wonders before nodding slowly.

"My lady, I do not know for sure. However, you have said his name in sleep. Luckily, you do not share a bed with that bastard of a husband." She giggles as Sansa stares in horror.

"I do what?" She exclaims with her mouth slightly open.

"You have done it before, my lady. I haven't told him yet though." She tells her and Sansa's head snaps to her instantly.

"You're going to tell him?" She asks, the same horrified expression contorting her features.

"Most probably." She replies simply before lighting a fire and walking out of the room, leaving Sansa alone with the thought that she might actually be attracted to Lord Baelish.

Petyr looks across the vast ocean, waves lapping against the edges of his boat as fog starts to surround him. This is the spot that he first took Sansa away from King's Landing. There wasn't a feeling much better than being able to hold her and actually be with her without the presence of people he did not trust. His sailors may not be too trustworthy but they still would not speak a word. He remembers the kiss at the Eyrie when they were making Winterfell. He remembers how mesmerized she was watching him build the glass gardens of Winterfell. However, the thing he remembers the most is the feel of her body against his and the feel of her lips on his. His lips still tingle at the memory while his body feels hot. What she is doing to him he will never know, just like his feelings towards it. It makes him feel vulnerable which he hates. But the feel of her with him makes him forget everything. Petyr takes a huge swig of his wine, trying to push the thoughts that make his mind run in circles.


	4. Reunification...

It's been three days since Sansa recieved a letter from Lord Baelish and she knows tha. t he is at sea but has he not bought any ravens with him? Or does he know she will not be able to reply? She stole the key to her door from Ramsay when he had his way with her. She hates him more than she hated Joffrey and Joffrey killed her father. However, the Bolton's killed her brother, mother, sister-in-law and her future niece/nephew, so that gives reason to hate both a lot. She can hear the Bolton's getting ready to face Stannis' army. She has nothing against the Baratheon's as they have done nothing to her; Joffrey wasn't a Baratheon after all, much to her amusement. She twists the key into the lock, knowing that she will not be noticed in her cloak. Her clothes are packed and Mylle is taking them to the port that Lord Baelish is meeting her at. There is no way that Stannis is going to win now. With all of his family dead, his mourning will overcome him and he will beg for Ramsay to kill him. She learnt that the hard way. All of these thoughts are confirmed as soon as she reaches the wooden deck above the courtyard; Bolton men are everywhere and every one of them is holding steel weaponry. She walks further across the deck to a wall where she can see the battle from. A few blurred dots emerge from a hill further down, blatant against the white of the snow. She hears the crack of the gate opening before a huge mass of people charge towards Stannis' army. Compared to Ramsay's army, Stannis' is miniscule. There is no chance in any of the seven hells that Stannis will win so Sansa runs towards the crypts. Only the people who knew Winterfell inside out and backwards, which was her family and a few trusted guardsmen, would know about the passage that led straight out of Winterfell and over to the dock. It was a lengthy journey. About 100 miles but there are points along the route where one can rest, drink water, eat and, if one wishes, light a fire to warm oneself. Sansa has chosen to take a horse with her, the one Lord Baelish gave her. If she travels on horse, she can get there much quicker and only need a few stops for water. A horse can cover a lot of space in a short time, especially this horse. Thus, it will only take two hours or so to get there. "Sansa?" Theon asks just as she enters the crypts, making Sansa freeze. "W-what are y-you doing out of y-your chamber?" Sansa turns towards him confidently; no one can stop her as Ramsay is in battle and Theon couldn't stop her getting away even if he chained her up. "I'm leaving, Theon. Do you want to come?" She asks, hoping he will. She still hates him for betraying Robb but at least he didn't kill Brann and Rickon. "I-I must tell ma-master." He orders himself, going to turn but Sansa grabs his arm. "Theon!" She hisses, making him turn to her. "You can't. You won't last two minutes in a battle like that. Please. Come with me." She pleads and he looks around as though someone was watching him. "We can ride together. You can go back to your normal self. The Theon I treated as a brother." He looks at her then, deeply. Consentration scouring his face. He nods before looking around. "Take that horse and ride with me." Sansa says, pointing at a horse about five metres away. Theon walks over before un-tying it feebly. He takes the horse by it's reigns and walks it towards her, his face hard yet sad. "Do you need help, my lady?" He asks, gesturing to the horse but Sansa shakes her head. The only touch she wants is Lord Baelish's and no one else's. Sansa climbs up and turns to Theon who is seated on his horse. Sansa pulls her horse into a trot as they makes their way through the crypts, Theon right next to her. She finds the gap in the wall that no one would see unless directly in front of it, before turning her horse. "It is dark for a maybe fifteen metres before there are torches. Do you think you can make it?" She asks and he nods. Sansa let's him through first, not wanting him to turn and run. Once she is through, they trot carefully through the spacious corridor. Is is thin for the first ten metres before expanding to a size where four horses can run side by side without knocking into one another. As soon as light appears she turns to Theon. "We can ride properly now. Come on." Theon pulls on the reigns and his horse picks up speed. Sansa does the same but makes sure not to have too much pressure. Her horse is much faster than most others. Lights flash by as they ride through the passage, Sansa becoming alight with happiness that they are away from Ramsay and that she is going towards Lord Baelish.

As the lights turned to nothing again, Sansa and Theon slowed. Sansa's stomach was fluttering, her heart knocking against her ribs and her mind dizzy with anticipation. She trots through the opening after Theon, the light hurting her eyes but she recovers quickly. Her mind is now racing. She doesn't want to see Lord Baelish in everyone else's company but she will have to. She rides the extra twenty metres to the dock before seeing him. His greying hair shining. It is still only his temples that are grey, probably through stress as he is only a young man. She decides to be graceful in her movements, show no sign of weakness just like she did in King's Landing. His lips twist up in a small smile only she could see before he turns back to his hard gaze. She sees Brienne, the blonde woman, standing next to Sansa's things with the squire she remembers Tyrion having. She reaches them and steps off of her horse as the squire takes her. Sansa watches as he takes her horse onto Lord Baelish's ship before turning to him. She can feel every nerve spark as he meets her gaze, greeny-grey boring into her blue. "Lord Baelish." She greets, happy that her voice isn't hoarse as she had suspected it would be. "Lady Sansa." He replies, taking her hand before bringing it to her lips. "Are you well?" He asks with a concerned glint in his eyes, unrecognizable to anyone who doesn't look for it. "I am, thank you. Are you?" She replies and he gives her a small smile. "I am." He says before Sansa turns to Brienne. "My lady." She greets and Brienne stands-to, as a proper knight should. "My lady." She replies. "This is Theon of the house Greyjoy, last surviving son of Baylon Greyjoy. Will you take care of him? Get him back to his normal self before that bastard got to him." She says and Brienne stands-to again. "As my lady wishes." She says before kneeling. "I Brienne of Tarth here give you, Sansa Stark of house Stark, heir to Winterfell, my sworn sword." "Thank you, my lady." She says, her head bowing slightly. She had no idea what to do in this situation because her septa had never told her what to do in a situation like this. She turns abruptly to Lord Baelish who meets her gaze again. Eyes burning into hers. "Come."


	5. Blame...

As Sansa stares at the blue waves rolling against the ship, she feels a familiar hand touch her back, making her flinch involuntarily.

"It's me, Sansa. It's okay." He soothes, moving to stand next to her. After a short pause, Sansa turns to him.

"It was your fault you bastard!" She shouts, falling to the floor in tears she hadn't known were, and still are, streaming down her face. He tries to wipe them away but she lashes out, kicking and screaming.

"Sansa!" He shouts, making her still. "Calm down. I know I should have found out more about him but even his father didn't know about his... Predilections. Forgive me." He pleads, Sansa still not looking at him, being her stubborn self. She hates Ramsay and him. She can't help but blame him because she had already blamed herself enough to totally despise herself. However, she can be one of her dolls from childhood. All of the Seven Kingdoms are a dollhouse, King's Landing most of all. She can put on her doll face, which she will do to play the game you have to. She then rises, wiping the tears away before turning to him. He rises slowly, nervously, maybe?

"I thank you for saving me, Lord Baelish." She hisses before going to leave but a hand on her wrist stops her movements.

"Sansa, I can see through your mask; I have always been able to. I am truly sorry and, as much as I blame myself, I have always made it possible for you to leave and it was Ramsay's fault. I'm sorry but that's the truth." He says, making her sigh.

"But you didn't come and save me!"

"I am not a knight in shining armour, Sansa! But I did try!" He retorts before spinning her towards him, her body so close to his. His hand moves up to her neck as his lips collide with hers, their movements matching for the short amount of time it lasts. Once they pull apart, his eyes search hers before falling to her lips again. That beautiful shade of pink he has always loved. Her eyes flutter before she leans back in, there lips meeting again. But this time it is a more passionate kiss, their lips moving together with urgency but it's gentle too. As they continue kissing, he feels one hand slide toward his neck while the other moves to his waist. Then, the small gap between them, closes with Sansa's pull. He can feel all of her body now, every inch of it, making him feel more urgent. His other hand travels across her back, bottom and the top of her thigh. Suddenly, she pulls away, flushed and breathless, just as he presumably is. She takes his hand, moving across the ship before going into the bed chambers. As soon as they are in there and the door is closed, Petyr grabs her and kisses her again, removing her dress slowly to reveal her underclothes. He has always found it easier to work when there isn't a bigger dress there. He then pushes her back a couple of steps so they are against the door, heated mouths creating the heated kiss. His left hand is back on her neck while his other travels down to her thigh before picking it up and gripping her upper thigh, just below where her hem ended. A soft groan escaped her, making him grab her other thigh and pull her leg up. Her legs wrap around him as his lips travel down to her neck, making her run her fingers through his hair as she moans.

"Petyr..." She moans as he carries on kissing her neck, now becoming more fevered with the sound of his name from her lips. He walks with her on his hips, kissing her lips all the while before placing her on the bed. This is where she feels his hand start to move up her skirt, further towards the throbbing and the pooling in her stomach. She moans again as his hands travel further and further up, caressing her as he does.

"You are so beautiful." He breathes in between kisses as his hands finally reach their destination and he presses down, a loud moan coming from Sansa. "Oh, sweet Sansa, that's nothing." He smiles before he starts to rub around it, his lips never leaving hers as he captures her moans.


	6. Lust...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Shameless smut. You can skip it if needs be.

"Gods, Sansa." Petyr growls as he continues to rub circles on her. He can feel how ready she is and he can scarcely contain himself. Her moans echo through the walls of the cabin as he continues his sweet torture on Sansa, eyes dark but glowing. Her hands are firmly wrapped around his shoulders, the rock of the ship only adding to the rhythm of his fingers. She moans again and he can't resist himself, inserting one finger into her as his thumb continues working where his fingers once where. Her eyes fly open, staring into his dark ones. Desire has darkened the blue orbs which have now become bottomless depths of blue, the kind of blue Dorne's oceans are. He continues to move his finger within her, the feeling becoming more and more pleasant as far as her writhing body tells him. Her eyes have fluttered, pleasure contorting her features.

 

"Lord Ba-"

 

"Petyr." He corrects her, stopping his fingers abruptly. Her eyes fly back open, fury and lust burning through him. Petyr leans forward, kissing and nibbling along her jaw until it reaches her ear. "Say my name, Sansa." He growls, his voice low and husky. She moans into him, bucking her hips and he starts again, pushing her closer and closer to something. It's a warmth pooling in her stomach, a burning of pleasure caressing her nerve endings.

 

"P-Petyr." She gasps and he mumbles appreciatively into her ear, his lips moving to hers before they trial down her neck. He finds her pulse point as she writhes beneath him and he begins to lap at it. She's moaning now, even loader than before and he begins to suck at the tender spot he found. "Mmm. Petyr... Oh Gods. What are you doing to me?" She moans, as her hips buck against his hand more strongly. "Oh. Don't stop." She breathes, pleasure contorting her features. He groans into her neck again as she bucks more violently against him. He has learnt all of the ways to make her writhe but he has been holding this one off, the one thing he knows will overthrow her so hard her voice will be hoarse from screaming his name. He curls his fingers, finding the rough patch of flesh. "Petyr!" She screams, finally reaching climax. Her back arches off the bed as the waves of pleasure course through her blood, her whole body alive with a fire she can't explain. He doesn't stop though. He slows gradually until she has stopped writhing and moaning. Until she has to push his hand away due to sensitivity. "Oh my Gods." She sighs, pulling his face down to hers for a long, heated kiss. Her hand begins to move down his chest towards the evident arousal he's showing through his clothing.

 

"Sansa." He groans as her hands finds him, slowly rubbing him through the many layers of clothing.

 

"I think you're a little overdressed, my Lord." She says, an impish grin covering her face. 

 

"I'm sure you could help me with that, my Lady." He smiles, kissing her fully again as layers start to come off.nHe is naked before he knows it and Sansa's hand is on him, stroking. He groans appreciatively and moans into her ear, his hips involuntarily bucking into her hand. He moves his lips from her ear to her mouth, taking hers with a passion she didn't believe was possible before they locked lips on the mostly vacant deck.

 

"I want you Petyr Baelish..." She murmurs into his mouth, "now." She finishes, causing him nearly to come just from hearing her say that with such conviction.

 

"Are you sure, Sansa? I can leave right now if you wish it. You don't need to-" That's when Sansa begins kissing him again, one of her thighs wrapping around the back of his as she stops stroking and lifts herself up to slide their sexes together. "Sansa." He hisses both in pleasure and in warning. She smiles mischievously before kissing his neck, sucking and nibbling across the pale flesh. "Oh, what you do to me..." He groans as he slides their bodies against each other. "Now?" He asks, moving away from her to kiss her forehead and both cheeks before staring into her eyes.

 

"Now." She agrees and Petyr slowly slides into her, groaning at the heat surrounding him. He stays still, letting her get accustomed to him as he peppers her face and neck with endearing kisses. She wraps her legs around his wait and pulls him towards her, telling him it's okay to move. So, he does. Slowly at first, trying to remember every millimetre of her beautiful body and seeing how she reacts to different movements. Pleasure is coursing through his entire system just being inside her and he knows that he will never be able to let this go. Not ever. She is his. Her body is now bucking against him, begging him to increase his pace and so he does, he would never permit giving her pleasure. He can feel himself needing to let go. He feels that pressure starting to build and so he snakes his hand between there bodies and starts rubbing at her. "Argh. I'm gonna... I-" That's when he can see everything shatter around her, her whole body is alive, clamping down on him and that's when he lets go, pleasure covering every inch of his body because of her. He sees spots as the pleasure of his climax and seeing hers makes him cum to the point of pain.

 

"Sansa!" Is all he manages to cry before he slumps down on top of her. He's still trying to hold his weight up as not to crush her body but the hands that were on his neck and shoulders pull him down until he is covering her. He's going to have to wear something comfortable with a high neck tomorrow because of the scratches her nails have caused and the bruising her lips have. He feels himself start to go limp and pulls out, rolling over with her so she is nestled into his side. He can feel she is starting to drift off so he covers them in the sheets, kissing her forehead. "Sweet dreams, my love." He mumbles before succumbing to sleep himself.


End file.
